


I Never Left You

by theunknownfate



Category: Monster House (movie), Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, M/M, Skewed Timeline, child versions, monster house 'verse, roadrat - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:03:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8354410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theunknownfate/pseuds/theunknownfate
Summary: I took a break from Fifty-fifty to write this by special holiday request. I was asked to put the Junkers in the Monster House setting and it took me awhile to get to it, because there really wasn't a way it wouldn't be at least a little sad. But, Junkrat is a crazy old man, living in a house that has absorbed an angry, protective spirit. The neighbor kids are played by Lucio, Jesse, Hana, and Hanzo. Accidents happen. Things explode.





	1. a home to go to

The story got confused somewhere in the middle. Everyone knew that Old Man Fawkes was crazy. Everyone knew he had built the rambling, ramshackle Victorian/Gothic/farmhouse/shack when there had been no one around for miles. It looked like he had built it out of pieces of other house all slammed together, or like he had seen a mansion, once, from a distance, and had built it the best he could from memory. It was a disaster of architecture from every angle, wood and brick and slate and stone all mishmashed. How it stood up at all was a miracle and a mystery. It defied both mortar and gravity. 

He had built it too tall and too wide for just one person, especially his own person. Fawkes was tall sure, but stooped and slumped. It was like he’d been stretched too tall and thin to hold himself up and sagged over on top. He had a bad leg and a worse limp. Getting around in the sprawling house must’ve been hard on him. He hardly ever left it. The town had slowly built up around him over the years and the stories about him had started. 

He hadn’t built the house for himself, they said. It had been for the love of his life. They had run away from somewhere together and he had built the house in the middle of nowhere so that they could be together forever. It should’ve been romantic, if the house hadn't been a monstrous pile of carpentry and masonry, or if the mysterious love had still been with him. Because Fawkes was alone there. Everyone knew that too. 

What they didn’t know was how it had all gone wrong. That was where the story tangled up on itself. Something had changed. Houses had started to be built closer and closer and roads had started tracing their way all through the emptiness until the middle of nowhere was in the middle of a neighborhood. Something had happened. Had he killed his love or was it his brother who had died? Was it his brother who had killed the love? Had the both loved the same person? Had they fought? Had Fawkes been keeping his sweetheart a prisoner in the crazy house? That much no one knew. 

No one could find out either. Fawkes kept to himself but flew into a terrifying rage if confronted. God help anyone who strayed onto his lawn. It was kind of cliche sure, and some kids decided to up the ante by vandalizing the front of the house with spray paint. They were never seen again. Police came to question Fawkes while he was scrubbing at the big smiley face on the door. He had rushed down the walk to scream at them, shooing them back to the mail box. He had been handcuffed and put in the patrol car for safe keeping, and the house had been searched for the missing kids. 

Everyone who had been there said Fawkes had screamed “Please don’t! Everything is all right! Everything is fine. Don’t do it! Please! Not this time!” the whole time officers had been in the building. There had been no sign of any child had ever been in the house. When they had come back out onto the yard and made it safely to the street again, Fawkes had burst into tears. Whether it was embarrassment or relief, it had been pitiful enough that they had let him out of the patrol car and uncuffed him. It softened a lot of his neighbors’ hearts. 

It was a shame, everyone said. The crazy old man being tormented by young punks. The house was all he had and he had been treated like a criminal on top of everything. Their sympathy only lasted until he was chasing them off again. He wouldn’t let anyone near the house. If they made it to the porch before he knew they were there, he would come screaming out the door like a madman. Word got around. People stopped trying. They didn’t stop disappearing. Girl scouts, postal services, the nosy and well-meaning alike vanished from the yard. Fawkes built a fence, then built it higher. 

The house stayed standing, year after year. The paint never wore off completely. The bright yellow grin leered across the lawn for years afterwards. No one wanted to be the one to offer to paint over it, even if they complained about the eyesore. Then, one day, fire flew out of the chimney. It must’ve gone up a hundred feet straight into the sky. Burning papers and ash rained down from it and when someone got close enough to look, they saw Old Man Fawkes stretched out at the foot of the porch stairs. The front door was wide open. He didn’t look like he had fallen. He looked like he had been laid there. By the time the ambulance arrived, the gate was unlocked. By the time the firetrucks came, the fire was out. 

They searched the house anyway. There were signs that there had been a fire in the bedroom fireplace, but it hadn’t spread anywhere that they could see. There were flammable and explosive materials a-plenty in the basement, but all carefully stowed and safely contained. They were worried about the boiler because it was making some deep raspy noises, but it seemed to be working just fine as well. A few neighbors took advantage of the opportunity and went in for the first time. They were disappointed to find it very outdated, but ordinary. There weren’t any pictures of some long lost sweetheart or jealous brother. Just framed postcards of road trip destinations. No mysterious stains or suspicious possessions. There was a palpable undercurrent of hostility in the air. A door slammed suddenly and violently and sent them scurrying. They hurried out again, blaming it on the wind. 

At the hospital, things were a little more obvious. Fawkes didn’t have a bad leg, he had a missing one. He had a prosthetic that looked like it had been made from a piece of a banister. His arm was in the same shape, only it had been made of pieces of an old iron chandelier. He also appeared to have had a mild heart attack. He came around in a panic, desperate to get home. The head doctor explained what had happened to him. He was going to stay in CCU to be monitored to make sure his heart was working and that any damage could be treated. There were going to test his blood sugar and give him an angiogram. He didn’t know what any of that meant and ranted and raved at them until he threw up. They tried to ask him who they could call for him, but there was no one. Finally, the ambulance driver gave them the number of a neighbor. 

These neighbors lived across the street from him, stared at by the smiley face all these years. It was a retired military man with three kids and it was one of those that crept into see him after two days of begging and threatening and generally being a difficult patient. Fawkes recognized the kid at once. The roller skater who cut corners too close and laughed too loud. He had heard the name yelled by the older brother and the younger sister but it wasn’t coming to him. He wondered for a minute why they had sent the kid, but then remembered that he had gotten into so many arguments with their dad that they probably didn’t want to rile him up any worse. 

“Hi, Mr. Fawkes,” the kid said, polite and cautious. “How are you feeling?”

“How do you fucking think I feel?” Fawkes had snapped. 

“We found you outside,” the kid said. “What happened?” Fawkes growled, then sighed. 

“I woke up tired,” he said. “Dizzy, and sick. My back hurt and my shoulder, and I couldn’t draw a breath. Then, I’m not sure what happened. Heart attack.”

“Where do the people go when they disappear from your house?” the kid asked without warning. Fawkes eye twitched and he glared. 

“Why?”

“Because I heard my brother talking to his friend and they want to go see if there really is a graveyard in your basement.” The kid raised his chin like he would dare him to deny it. “They want me to find out how long you’ll be in here so they know how much time they have.”

“They can’t,” Fawkes wheezed, trying to sit up. “Kid, they can’t. They’ll-“

“If they disappear, how do I get them back?” 

“They don’t come back,” Fawkes said, he clutched at his face with his good arm, pulling the IV tight. One of his monitors beeped. “I can’t get them back.”

“It’s not you, is it?” the kid asked. “It’s something in the house.” 

“It is the house,” Fawkes whispered, going limp in the bed again. “It’s him.”

The kid was quiet, big dark eyes sympathetic and unafraid. He was just waiting. Fawkes put his arm back down and took careful breaths until all his equipment had settled. He made sure the door was shut and there wasn’t a nurse on the way. 

“Him,” he said again. “He was mine.”

“Your brother?” the kid asked. 

“What?” Fawkes grimaced at him. “No. I shouldn’t even tell you this.”

“Tell me anyway,” the kid said. “Can’t be worse than what they say.” 

“It was love at first sight,” Fawkes said. He glared again, daring the kid to laugh or sneer. When neither happened, his shriveled old face relaxed and you could tell what he might’ve looked like when he was younger. “They kept him in a cage,” the old man said. “Covered by a curtain. It was part of the show, the big reveal. So big…” His voice trailed off. “I was working on the railroad, clearing the way for new track. We traveled along with the trains and so I was with a bunch of the others and we had come to see the show. They pulled the curtain back and there was the cage and then they hit it with the lights. He was so beautiful. You don’t know what it was like to see something that perfect so suddenly. They had billed him as some kind of giant and he was huge. I could barely get my whole hand around one of his fingers. So big and careful the way he moved. I couldn’t even breathe just watching him.”

“Like a circus?” the kid asked, but gently. 

“They made him wear a suit,” Fawkes said, eyes misty and his voice faint. “And take it off piece at a time. Just to show how big he really was. When he got down to the skin, he was tattooed and, and glistening.”

“Um,” said the kid. 

“His hair was like silver,” Fawkes went on dreamily. He shuddered a little, maybe remembering what happened next. “I don’t know what started it. Somebody said something and it got a laugh. And then everyone was laughing and they all started throwing things at him. I couldn’t believe it. Food and trash and handfuls of dirt from the ground, whatever was in reach. I was screaming at them to stop, to stop it! Can’t you see?? But the bastards didn’t listen and then he roared at them and I felt it all the way to my marrow. They pulled the curtain to end the show and get him away and the other workers laughed it off and went to see the “Genuine Living Mermaid.” He made gestures with this bony hands. “I didn’t. I stayed until closing and then snuck back around. 

“He was sitting there in the cage, just sitting there. Every string in my heart pulled tight. I went over to talk to him. He was too big to reach out, but I could reach him. As soon as I touched him, he grabbed me and pulled me up against the bars.” Fawkes cackled and pointed at the gold tooth in his jaw. “Cracked that one right of out my head against the bars. The power in him…! So much-

“I told him I loved him. It just spilled out of me. Dribbling blood and grinning like an idiot, I said I loved him and asked him if he wanted to leave this place. Said I’d take him anywhere he wanted to go. He said yes and I let him out of the cage and we stole a truck and left. We went everywhere! All the places I had only heard of growing up. He’d only gotten to see what he could from the circus train. We went everywhere. If we needed something we stole it. No one could stop us. I remember the night he killed a man to protect me. No one had ever cared enough about me to protect me before. I, I thought I was the one taking care of him. I wanted to be, but all that anger came out of him at once and after that he didn’t see any need to hold it back. He was unstoppable. No one was allowed to touch him but me, and no one was allowed to touch me but him. We did what we wanted, took what we needed, until finally, all either of us wished for was a home to go to.”

“You came here to be alone,” the kid said and Fawkes nodded. 

“Too alone,” he said. “It was so good for so long, with no one to say we were wrong, or to laugh, or, or..” He trailed off and stayed quiet so long the kid started to lean forward and he started talking again to keep the question back.

“There was no one to help when it happened,” he said, voice cracking under the pain that he had never let go. “His lungs had never been good. I always figured it would be me to go first. I was the puny one. I’d made all the arrangements, groceries delivered, bills paid in advance, everything, so that he could stay if he wanted. When I was gone. I stockpiled books and things for him, whatever I thought he would like. But he was the one that, that-“ Fawkes choked on the word and had to take a deep breath to get it out.”… went.”

“You don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want,” the kid said. 

“It happened so fast when it happened,” Fawkes might not’ve heard him. “His lungs filled up and he couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t help him. There was no one to help. No one to come. Even if I had been able to call, they couldn’t have got here in time. All I could do was hold him.” He wrapped arms around himself, the stump only reaching halfway. 

“Maybe it was for the best. He would’ve hated strangers touching him, moving him, taking him somewhere like this. He would’ve been furious-“ Fawkes’ voice broke a little more. “And scared…”

“And he’s still there,” the kid realized. 

“Oh, he never left,” Fawkes said. “And I can’t ever leave him. It took me awhile to realize I wasn’t alone,” he went on. “And when I did, I was so relieved! I tried to join him, but I did it wrong.” Fawkes blinked at his arm and leg. “I still would’ve bled out, but he saved me. Pinched it shut and made me the spares. He’s the one that carried me out to where you saw me.”

“Do you want to call him?” the kid asked, pulling out a cell phone. “If you call your home phone, could he hear you?” Fawkes blinked at the phone, then glared again.

“You’re taking this too well,” he said. 

“You’ve never been to my house,” the kid said. “We’ve got a weird all our own. Do you want to try it?” Fawkes face softened again, and he reached for the phone. He dialed and waited and let the machine pick up.

“I’m ok,” he said immediately. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. Everything will be all right. Look.” He glanced at the kid. “Look, some kids might try to get in. Don’t worry about them. Remember the kid with the roller skates and the frog hat? I’m sending him over to take care of it. Let them leave. It’ll be all right. I’ll, I’ll be home soon. Ok? Ok. I love you.” The message ended and he took a deep breath. 

“Me?” the kid sputtered. “Why me? I thought we were supposed to stay away. I thought that was what all the fences and yelling were for.”

“Didn’t stop your brother,” Fawkes said, handing the phone back. “I’ve got to be a good little patient and get out of here and in the meantime, you have to keep your brother and his friends from hurting anything. Because if they do? I don’t know what will happen to them, but you won’t be seeing them again.”

“Ok,” the kid said, face going through different stages of worry. “What, um, should I. Y’know. Call him?”

“What?”

“Your house. Does he have a name?”

“He won’t appreciate you knowing his name,” Fawkes said. “Just go. Good luck,” he added just before the kid left.


	2. Jamie

Lucio had to wait for the bus and then run home. He wanted to be sure he had his skates and hat, just in case the house didn’t remember him. 

“How did it go?” his sister called without looking up from her video game. 

“Good!” he said. “He’s a lot nicer than I thought he’d be.”

“Crap, I thought you were Jesse,” she said. “Those two jackasses headed across the street a little while ago.”

“What?” Lucio checked out a window and sure enough, there was his older brother and his stuck-up best friend walking around the porch and looking in the windows. “They said they weren’t doing that til later!” He grabbed his skates, slapped the hat on, and tore back out. He ran across the street and down the walkway. The older boys looked up as he hurried over. 

‘What are you doing here?” Jesse asked. 

“I went to see Mr. Fawkes at the hospital,” Lucio said louder than necessary, just in case the house needed a reminder. “He’s feeling better! He asked me to come and get you guys.”

“You ratted us out?” Jesse asked, incredulous. Hanzo was checking all the doors. None of them would open. 

“Mr. Fawkes said that he’d be home soon,” Lucio said. “I asked him how soon and he knew some twit was gonna try something when he was gone. He knew I knew and he figured it out. His heart sputtered. Not his brain.” That wasn’t the truth. He had ratted them out barely a minute into the conversation. He didn’t care. He didn’t want a vengeful ghost after his brother and he didn’t want Mr. Fawkes to feel worse. The old man had it bad enough. 

“Yeah, that gave out years ago,” Jesse sneered and the doorknob in Hanzo’s hands suddenly opened. Both teenagers hurried over. Lucio just stood there terrified. Everyone had called Fawkes crazy. But he wasn’t. The danger was real and now it was angry enough to disobey him and let the door open. To what? Inside was a hallway that led off to different rooms. Most of the doors were closed. They saw a dimly lit living room with a gigantic couch and coffee table built on the back of a pig sculpture. They didn’t go in. 

“You guys,” Lucio said, hoping beyond all hope that today would be the day his brother listened to him. “We need to get out of here before you break something and then Dad has to pay for it.” Jesse did hesitate then. Their dad had had to dig out an old jacket instead of wear a new coat last winter because there hadn’t been room in the budget after paying off another one of Jesse’s hijinks. Jesse hadn’t worn one either out of penance and gotten sick and then racked up a medical bill and made the situation worse. Lucio saw the contrition on his face and thought he had won. But then. 

“Just tell anyone that this was my idea,” Hanzo said. He stuck one of his father’s business cards into the corner of a mirror on the wall. “You came along to stop me and I’ll pay any damages.” Then he swept off to start trying doors again. Jesse broke back into a grin and helped him. Lucio wanted to smack himself in the forehead. On their own, these two were fine. Together, they just brought out the worst in each other, recklessness and arrogance and general asshattery. Then, another door opened with a bone-chilling squeal. Lucio jumped and was spitefully glad to see that they did too. He inched over to see and it was stairs, leading down into the dark. They were being allowed into the basement. The older boys went on down, whispering the names of all the people who had disappeared over the years. They were urban legends now. 

“I’m sorry,” Lucio whispered as he started down after them. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to get them to leave.” The stairs creaked under his feet, sounding impatient. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. 

The basement was huge and cold and the bare bulb with the pull string hardly lit it up. There were boxes of things all very neatly stacked and labelled. A work table wasn’t nearly as orderly. No bodies. No graves. The teenagers were disappointed and Lucio was about to suggest one more time that they get out of here before they were caught, but then Jesse spotted something and whistled. There was something in the floor. Hanzo and Lucio both went to see. It was like a headstone set in the floor, a homemade one shaped out of the concrete. It was a huge rectangle that started out My Beloved Mako and then just got mushier from there. Lucio didn’t want to read it and he hoped the other two wouldn’t either. If the house didn’t want his name known, he definitely wouldn’t want anyone to know what Fawkes had really felt for him. He shouldn’t have worried. They only made it to the third word. 

“Mako?” repeated Jesse. “What the hell kinda name is _Mako_?”

“Dude, shut up,” hissed Lucio, eyeing the walls around them. Did they shift at that? Was that sound just the furnace kicking on?

“Maybe it’s pronounced Mah-ko,” Hanzo said. “Long A.” They both tried it, dragging the syllable out and laughing

“Maybe you should leave it alone!” Lucio said, getting in between them and the grave, spreading his arms out like that would help. 

“When did you get to be such a downer?” Jesse said, annoyed. “You were all for exploring the Seattle Underground when we were there.”

“That wasn’t somebody’s house!” Lucio said. “Mr. Fawkes is really a pretty nice guy. He loves his house. He’s not gonna think this is funny.”

“Then he’s not that nice, is he?” Jesse reasoned. 

“You guys!” Lucio insisted, hearing his voice going shrill. “This is not cool!”

“You guys!” Jesse mocked his whine. 

“This is why I didn’t bring _my_ little brother,” Hanzo said. He turned away to look at something else and Jesse glared at Lucio. 

“I didn’t bring him, he just showed up,” he tried to argue.

“Mr. Fawkes asked me to come,” Lucio said, loud enough that the house could hear too. “I have his permission to be here!”

“Well, you’ve got mine to leave,”Jesse said. “This is supposed to be fun.”

“How?” Lucio asked, throwing his arms up. “It’s an old man’s basement!”

“An old man who used to a grader for the Pacific National Railroad,” Hanzo said from whatever he was snooping in.

“So?”

“So, some of this could be dynamite,” Hanzo said with a smirk and damn him, Jesse’s eyes lit up. The door at the top of the stairs slammed and the light went out, leaving all three of them in pitch blackness. 

“Shit,” said Jesse. “He is home. He knows we’re down here.”

“Let’s just go,” Lucio said. “There’s gotta be another way out. Maybe a cellar door around back. If we can find it.”

“I got a lighter,” Jesse said. 

“Dynamite, remember?” Lucio snapped, and in the silence where Jesse tried to come up with a reason it was still a good idea they all heard the answering machine beep upstairs. They couldn’t hear the message, but it didn’t matter. “Time to go.” Jesse made an exasperated sound and the flick of his lighter gave them enough light to see by. Lucio started for the adjoining room caring less and less if they followed him. Something opened ahead of him and there was dim light. The house wanted them out, he reminded himself. Fawkes had told it to let them go. There was another set of stairs leading to a door, and it was open and there was another room in the house on the other side. There was weak light coming from a window. 

“This way!” he called over his shoulder and hurried up them. “We’re going! Just let us out and we’ll go.” It was a kitchen, he realized. Part of the basement must’ve been a pantry. He turned around and saw Jesse and his lighter coming to the stairs. Hanzo’s pale face was right behind him. As soon as Jesse’s foot hit the stairs, they collapsed and he went sprawling. Lucio squealed his name, rushing forward to stop the door from slamming shut. It didn’t, but the lighter skittered across the floor and hit something. 

“I’ll get it,” Hanzo said, but there was a faint _whoosh_ and then there were flames. Lucio had no idea what caught on so quick, but they were hot and bright and climbing the wall in what felt like a heartbeat. There wasn’t even a hope of putting it out. The whole house shook and a thundering sound vibrated through it all. The house was roaring. Jesse grabbed Hanzo and boosted him up to the doorway and he and Lucio both held out their hands to pull Jesse up with them. The house tilted, like it was trying to pull itself away from the fire in its belly. The boys ran for the front door, being thrown into walls and furniture as everything shifted and slid. An end table with the answering machine bounced down the hall with them. It beeped again and Fawkes voice blurted out.

“I got out!” he said, breathing hard and frantic. “I’m coming! Don’t do anything until I get there!” That was the message he had left. How far away was he? Could he stop this? Something exploded in the basement, making floorboards pull free. The roaring sounded more like an enraged animal than a collapsing house. They had to get out before anything else. Jesse grabbed Lucio up when he stumbled and they ran for the door. The floor arched under their feet, throwing them around. Shards of splintered wood gnashed at them like teeth. One got Jesse on the arm and Lucio felt stabs in his legs, but they made it. They rolled out onto the lawn and kept running. 

People in the neighborhood had heard the commotion and come running. Lucio saw their dad sprinting from their house toward them. The house behind him strained to tear itself off its foundation and chase them. Another explosion blew off a chunk and made it stagger. The boys were grabbed and pulled away by their neighbors. Were they safe even then? Would the explosion take out the whole street? People were on phones. Maybe help was coming. Maybe enough of the house could be saved that Mr. Fawkes could still live there. With Mako. 

Their Dad was hugging him and Jesse in turn and Hanzo was doing his best to take the blame, even though his own father was nowhere to be seen. He was clutching his shoulder. There was blood coming from it. It had bitten him too. An ambulance careened in from the street and Old Man Fawkes all but fell out of it. He was barefoot and wearing a hospital smock. He had his banister leg, but not the arm. He hadn’t been released, he had escaped. He had stolen the ambulance, just like he had stolen the truck when he and Mako had fled the circus. He stared in horror at the burning house as it twisted and pulled on itself. Lights flashed in the windows and fire shot from the basement. He broke into a shambling run towards the house. 

“Shit! Shit, the basement! The-“ Fawkes words were cut off as the beams of the house separated and slammed down in front of him, holding him back. Holding him out of range.

“NO!” the old man screamed. “Don’t leave me! I never left you! Take me with you! TAKE ME WITH YOU!!” The house groaned, lights flickering in misery, but it still pushed him back. It ripped off more and more pieces of itself to pile in front of Fawkes while he shrieked and clambered to get back inside. Lucio tried to run and help him, but was snatched back by his father. There was a muffled _pop_ from somewhere below and then all the chemicals and materials in the basement went off. The house screamed as it was flung into splinters. It was a sound of pain and grief instead of rage. Dust and fire and pieces of the building shockwaved out around them. Everything shook and everyone’s ears rang so shrilly that no one could hear a word over it. 

Through the dust, Lucio saw Fawkes crumpled on the ground. He hadn’t been hit by anything. A shape curled around him, shielding him. It was big and round and it blocked everything that might have hurt him. Fawkes was staring at it, reaching out with the one hand as it faded. Mako had protected him one last time. There was nothing left of the house and maybe without it, there was nothing left of Mako. As the smoke and dust settled, Fawkes was left alone. He curled in on himself, shaking with sobs. Lucio felt his own eyes well up. He’d messed this up every which way. He hadn’t helped at all. Maybe he’d saved Jesse and Hanzo, but maybe him being there had made them act worse than they would’ve. Jesse looked just as guilty as he felt, like he wished the ground would open up under him like it had the house. 

Emergency vehicles were starting to arrive. The windows of all the surrounding houses had been blown out by the explosion. The fence around Fawkes’ house had been leveled. The old man had nothing left between him and the neighbors he had spent so long keeping away. Lucio limped over, even though his father hissed at him to wait and Jesse looked panicked. 

“Mr. Fawkes?” he said. He wondered if the old man would punch him if he got too close. 

“I don’t want to be free,” Fawkes wept into his hand. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“You’re not!” Lucio tried to tell him. “You don’t have to protect us from you anymore. You can have all of us. Mr. Shimada will pay you off to keep Hanzo out of trouble. You can rebuild. Or go somewhere else. You can do anything now.” Arms wrapped around Lucio and his father was lifting him up and away. A new ambulance was there and they were sending someone to get Fawkes while they checked everyone else for injuries. Hanzo was talking to the police, maybe still taking the blame. 

“It can still be ok!” Lucio shouted to Fawkes, but he didn’t know if the old man heard. He had to go get his ears checked because one was bleeding and the cuts on his legs might need stitches. Jesse had his bangs and one eyebrow singed off which would’ve been funny any other time. The bite on his arm looked pretty bad, too. They had to answer a lot of questions and give an official statement. Lucio left out the details about the ghost of sideshow worker murdering anyone who came near his lover. Fawkes had been taken back to the hospital, this time with no fuss. 

It took hours and they they had to get stitches and tetanus shots. Hanzo was already planning a tattoo to cover his scar which Jesse was in awe over. When they were finally allowed to go home, Lucio saw that the answering machine from the front hallway had made it all the way to his yard. He carried it in with him and plugged it in. The message light was still flashing, so he pushed the button. It was Fawkes frantic message when he escaped the hospital, but at the very end there was something else. It was deep and breathy and whispered the word “Jamie.” It made goosebumps rise all over Lucio’s body and then he went to the shower so he wouldn’t have to hear Jesse getting chewed out and they wouldn’t hear him cry.


	3. the only piece left

The lot where Fawkes had built his house burned for a week and then smoldered for another one. Bulldozers were brought in to smooth it over and smother the embers, but it still took forever. Mr. Fawkes stayed in the hospital and got all the tests anyone could want from him. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go. He had to answer some questions about what the hell he was keeping in his basement, but the firefighters who had gone in when Mako had called for help vouched that it had been safely contained. Fawkes reminded them that teenagers wandering around with open flame was hardly something he could’ve prevented even though he had done everything in his power. That turned the conversation to the ambulance he had stolen. 

It turned out that there were several warrants for Mr. Fawkes in relation to a string of crimes from the old days. No one knew until the hospital processed his paper work, but he escaped from the hospital again before he could be detained any further. Lucio didn’t know where he went, but hoped he would turn up again, if only to give him the answering machine so he could hear Mako’s voice one more time. 

Once the fires on the lot were out and the debris cleared, a sink hole opened up. The theory was that there had been an open spot under the ground and the blast had weakened it. The weight of the bulldozers moving piles around had been too much and it had fallen open. The space below was crammed full of decomposing bodies, some barely more than bones, some a little too fresh. No one could tell how they had gotten so far underground. It would’ve been impossible for Mr. Fawkes to have put them there, the investigator told the neighborhood. It was too deep under a bank of limestone. There wasn’t any opening until the ceiling had caved in. No one knew what to think, but a group of people who had seen a house chase children into the street wasn’t going to call anything impossible. Lucio made sure to tell Jesse and Hanzo that that was where they would’ve ended up if not for him. They didn’t argue.

Hanzo had done his best to leave them out of his official story, but everyone had seen all three of them running from the house. Both older boys agreed that Lucio had been sent to stop them and had gotten the owner’s permission to be there, so he hadn’t been punished. The older boys both got community service and Hanzo’s father had been sure to tear him a new one where everyone could hear. Hanzo had been very contrite to his father and took the punishment without complaint, which shut Jesse up since he didn’t want to look like the jerk. He had begged his dad for a tattoo like Hanzo’s to cover the scar down his arm. His dad had fixed with a steely glare and said “Only if it’s the words No Trespassing.” It wasn’t mentioned again. 

Mr. Shimada paid to replace everyone’s windows and had the empty lot landscaped. He planted a huge hydrangea bush there. It was meant as an apology, Hanzo said. There weren’t plans to rebuild on it because everyone was afraid of the sinkhole now. No one really expected Fawkes to ever come back, not with a criminal record and a sealed over hole in the ground where his house used to be. However, the occasional postcards would arrive for Lucio. They were from different vacation spots, national parks and monuments. They didn’t have any messages. Lucio kept them with the answering machine. He wondered if there was anything left of Mako, if that’s what Fawkes was looking for, or if he was just revisiting the spots where they had been happy. There were quite a few mysterious explosions at those places. Lucio wondered if he should tell somebody.

He looked it up, just to make sure no one was killed. He was surprised to find out that Fawkes had been arrested at the scene and spent awhile in the local prison before disappearing one night. The other inmates said the old man was crazy. He talked to his wooden leg like it was a person. It even had a name. That had left Lucio thrilled and horrified. The house was gone except for one piece, the piece that Mako had made into Fawkes’ leg. If there was anything left of Mako, it could be in the leg. It might not be able to do anything in leg form, but at least Fawkes wasn’t alone. That was probably a good thing. For Fawkes. Unless he really had gone crazy. 

When Lucio got a postcard that was an old vintage circus poster, it gave him a bad feeling. A few days later, the news showed that a traveling circus had been blown up hundreds of miles away. He figured it was Fawkes. Was it the same circus or just one that had the bad luck to cross the old man’s path? It had been after hours, so no one had been killed, but all the animals had been let go. It took a few days to catch them all.   
That was the night the hydrangea bloomed. It cheered up Hanzo to see it. He said it meant they were forgiven and that seemed to mean a lot to him. Being utterly in the doghouse had changed his attitude for the better and Jesse had followed his example yet again. 

Fawkes wasn’t caught again that anyone in town ever heard of. The story about him was still a mess. The middle of it had been straightened out, but now the end was confused. There wasn’t anything smooth or easy about the whole story, much like the old man himself. The postcards stopped coming after the circus. Maybe destroying that had cut Fawkes’ ties to his past life, left him with no more unfinished business. Maybe he could start a new life somewhere else. Lucio sometimes wondered if the old man was even still alive. Had he gone up with the blast? Had his heart given out on him again, somewhere on the road? If his body had been found, it hadn’t been identified. Either way, alive or dead, Lucio found himself hoping that wherever Mako had gone, Fawkes had found his way there.


End file.
